A few scattered pearls: সিঁচৰিত মুকুতা মণি

I generally write in any one of the four languages I know and then I translate sometimes to others. Normally, it’s confined to English and my mother tongue, Assamese (Axomiya). The one liner poems below, I started writing as it came and started translating simultaneously. For convenience of my readers, I am placing the English one first followed by the Assamese. However, they were not written and translated in any particular order.

Walking up a moonbeam to meet your love, have you seen your dreams shattered?
প্ৰেয়সীৰ সন্ধানত জোনাকৰ পম খেদি গৈ,দেখিছানে সপোন চুৰমাৰ যোৱা হৈ?


Looking up at the sky on a dark night, have you seen your dreams diffused among the glittering lights?
এন্ধাৰ নিশা তৰাবছা আকাশলৈ চাই, দেখিছানে সপোন তোমাৰ তৰালীৰ মাজত যোৱা হেৰাই?


If ever I lose myself in my poems, look for me among the few scattered pearls between the lines.
কেতিয়াবা যদি হেৰাই যাওঁ মোৰ কবিতাৰ মাজত, বিচাৰিবা মোক কবিতাৰ শাৰীৰ এমুঠি সিঁচৰিত হৈ থকা মুকুতা মণিত।


Not a purveyor of dreams unrealistic, my imagination takes flight seeking the unknown.
নহ‌ওঁ অলীক সপোনৰ পিয়াসী, মন মোৰ উৰা মাৰে অজানৰ সন্ধানত।


Why the moon has such a fatal attraction, I only look for beauty where none exists.
কিয় বাৰু জোনাকে মোক কৰে আকৰ্ষণ, মইতো মাথোঁ নোহোৱাতো কৰো সৌন্দৰ্য্যৰ অন্বেষণ।


There are more where it came from, just afraid that if I bared all, there will be no tomorrow.
আছে আৰু বহুতো গোপনে বুকুত, ভয় হয় যদি দিওঁ নিজকে উজাৰি, নেদেখিম পুৱাৰ সূৰ্যোদয়।


Silicon Valley

in the valley of heart’s delight,
quality of life on the demise,
homelessness on the rise,
we keep shut our eyes,
as if everything is working fine,
we go on with our lives.
blessed by nature in abundance,
we take everything for granted.
reward success with stock options,
and measure success in terms of
square feet of our homes,
and latest models of cars in the driveways.
we discuss about vacation homes while many go without,
consumption is king for the haves,
for the have nots street is one pay check away.
as we go merrily through our day,
the heart, from the valley of heart’s delight
crumbles and turns to dust.
alas, in time the silicon also will slip away.

Moonbeams’ walk

Wrote this poem today morning and then translated to my mother tongue Assamese (Axomiya). Posting them in the same sequence here.

Have you seen
the moonbeams walk?
sometimes they
light your paths,
sometimes they
cast shadows,
sometimes they fill
your heart with joy,
sometimes they make
it bleed raw,
sometimes they get lost
in the glitter of city lights.
but when the moonbeams
walk into your heart,
keep it safe,
because on the darkest night
of your life,
you will need the moonbeams
to navigate,
and light your path
with fireflies.

জোনাকৰ খোজ

দেখিছানে কেতিয়াবা
জোনাকে তোমাৰ লগত
কৰা বিচৰণ?
কেতিয়াবা আলোকিত
কৰি তোমাৰ পথ,
কেতিয়াবা ছাঁয়াৰ বোলেৰে
আকে পট,
কেতিয়াবা আনন্দৰে
উজলাই হিয়া,
কেতিয়াবা হৃদয় কৰে
বিষাদে ভৰা,
আৰু কেতিয়াবা জোনাক
হেৰাই যায় চহৰৰ
ৰঙচঙীয়া সন্ধিয়াত।
কিন্তু কেতিয়াবা জোনাক
যদি সোমাই তোমাৰ অন্তৰত,
সাঁচি থবা আলফুলকৈ,
জীৱনৰ ঘনঘোৰ
অন্ধকাৰ দিনটোত,
উজলাব তোমাৰ পথ,
জোনাকী পৰুৱা হৈ।

The Blank Slate

The blank slate
that I was born with,
corrupted beyond recognition
by years of abuse.
Many wrote on it
that I can not now
recognize my writing.
Blessed are those
left alone
to write their own course.
For many,
it’s a search in wilderness
for the blank slate,
that they can write their own.
A mirror fractured and fragmented
does not reflect me,
I now see
what I want to see
what others want to see in me.
The blank slate has
gone dark
long ago.

Why I Write

Many a times this question is asked why one writes. I was asked this question and I gave some answer or tried avoiding to answer. Couple of days back while I was having my morning coffee, the answer came to my mind as a poem that I jotted down. Is that the answer? Honestly, I don’t know. However, each and every word in the poem is true.

I forget the world
when I write,
I do not even know
what I write,
Only thing I know,
no, I feel,
there is a light
that shines,
and shows me the way,
the fingers move,
they are mine,
but they are not,
I do not have
any control,
I know not
the words that
come out,
Know not what
they mean,
I feel as if
my soul leaves me,
light and feathery,
it takes flight,
and when all is done,
I am back,
and I am me,
atleast what I
think is me,
there is such
an exhilaration
in writing,
I feel I die
and come back to
earth again.

Just remember me

just remember me
as the gust of
the west wind,
scented with wild flowers
that gently caressed you
for a brief moment in time,
and set your
heart on fire,
not with desire,
but something sublime.

astral music perhaps,
a few words divine,
that murmured
life is beautiful,
let the sun shine.

and

when I leave the
bounds of this
mortal world,
and pass into
oblivion,
if my memory
brings a smile
to your lips
without rancor,
it was a life
lived well.

I may not know,
I may not feel,
But I know
that smile
will put wind
to my sails,
and I shall
pass in peace
the bounds
of this world.

Phone call at night

Every phone call that comes at night,

fills my heart with fright,

who is next, who is next,

this is what life has become,

with sadness, I wait for my flight,

till then life goes on,

I keep rowing my boat,

every morning I get up,

I send a thank you note,

and try to stay upright,

every night I go to bed,

I say, if this be my last,

let me dream, let me dream,

so that when I go,

the journey be funny and bright.

Uninvited guest

Update:

Edwin Alvarez was the kid I wrote about in my poem below today.  Please read the request below from his friends trying to arrange for his funeral.

“Hey guys. I believe everyone is aware already that on Friday night there was a boating accident after which our friend Edwin unfortunately passed away. I don’t know however, if everyone is aware that he comes from a very humble family and I don’t know up to what point they relied on Edwin’s income. As far as I know, he was paying for his brother’s education, bootstrapping a business with his dad who works in construction and looking for ways to also help his mother, who is a maid, to find an alternate source of income.
Needless to say this is a life-altering situation that is going to be incredibly difficult for his family to overcome. Eduardo (one of Edwin’s friends who helped us contact his family), started a GoFundMe to help them out with the funeral expenses. Any help will surely be greatly appreciated. Here’s the link https://gf.me/u/ykvm62 . He also mentioned that Oscar (Edwin’s brother) is already aware of this effort.”

I write about current events, my poems are fiction, penned during my flights of imagination. The poem below is based on a tragedy that happened two nights ago.  A young soul was called back too soon by the Lord.  He was my son’s friend.  I never met him but heard about him from my son. A hard working, honest, fun loving friendly guy.  These are the times one questions, why? Why?  I guess there is no answer.

a day in a life of hope

started with fun and frolic,

a boat ride down the river,

azure summer sky pierced

with laughter and singing.

sun moved slowly

to the western sky, Continue reading “Uninvited guest”

Friends for ever

I leave creating in vacuum,
From nothing,
To the powers unseen,
I burrow into
your hearts,
and steal the words,
to string a necklace
of pearls,
may be rough at the edges,
may not be a string golden,
but if you care to listen,
you will hear
a heart beating,
and a few words of thanks,
Thank you my friends,
for being my companion,
in this wonderful
Journey


A belated wish for Friendship Day. I did not have any idea till yesterday that a day existed for friends. To me, friends are forever. However, to my blogily, this journey would not have been possible without you. So here is a toast for you.